


At the Bottom of a Glass

by MagicRobot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicRobot/pseuds/MagicRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whirl's a little bored and a lot drunk and decides to proposition Swerve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Bottom of a Glass

"Hey, loud mouth, give me my usual." Whirl waved Swerve over, pushing any stools in the vicinity out of the way. He draped himself over the bar as he waited, huffing. Out of the corner of his optic, he spotted the bartender hurrying over with his ‘usual’ - the strongest rendition of Nightmare Fuel that he was legally allowed to serve. It burned nicely going down and hit the tanks like lead.

The bar was pitifully empty, only a few mechs milling about. A couple of no-names were seated at the bar, drinking leisurely. It was quiet, too, something that Whirl wasn’t used to. If it wasn’t for Swerve’s presence, Whirl would’ve thought it was a completely different place.

It was also dreadfully boring and Whirl momentarily regretted his decision to visit.

"Here you go, Whirl." Swerve flashed his signature grin, sliding the glass between the awaiting claws. Whirl knocked back the glass before Swerve could even turn around to continue on with his mundane conversation with one of the mechs in the corner. Whirl shivered at the feeling of the fuel in his tanks.

"Ah, that hit the spot," he exclaimed, waving for another. There was already a pleasant buzz in his processor, but it wouldn’t hurt to add to it.

"Careful Whirl, remember what happened last time," cautioned Swerve, even as he began to fill up the glass again. Whirl waved him off, his claws clicking against the glass, sipping the substance much more delicately than he did before. His optic drooped lazily, the delightful buzz dipping into outright drunkenness.

Swerve nestled next to him, taking a cloth to wash the counter top. Most of the other patrons had left during the exchange, leaving the minibot with very little else to do. Whirl contented himself with watching him polish his prized bar. Nothing exciting, true, but somewhere around his third sip of Nightmare Fuel, an idea occurred to him.

"You don’t have a roommate, don’t you?"

The question gave Swerve pause. He glanced at Whirl cautiously, the edges of his grin wavering slightly. Questions like that from someone like Whirl were usually not a good combination. He thought about his answer for a while, debating on whether or not the truth would be the best. 

"No, I don’t."

Whirl hopped onto the nearest stool, swirling his drink. The colorful liquid sloshed on the countertop, causing Swerve to frown. The helicopter narrowed his optic in a look that might have been considered seductive, but mainly came off as confusing.  

"Been a while for you, I bet. Been a while for me, too." Whirl polished off the rest of the drink, placing the glass off to the side. He didn’t bother Swerve for another. His optic flickered in overcharge, trying to meet Swerve’s optics. "We’re not so different, you and me, you know? No one wants us - we’re the unwanted ones."

Swerve’s confused look was slowly morphing into uncomfortable. His smile dropped from his face, the rag left forgotten next to Whirl. He quietly excused himself, chuckling awkwardly. Before he could hide away in another corner of the bar, Whirl’s voice drifted over him once more

"So, how about it? Two lonely bots together for one night?"

Swerve stopped in his tracks, torn between disbelief and amusement. No more Nightmare Fuel for Whirl. 

"Ah, tempting, but I still have my bar to tend to." He motioned to the last costumer, silently milking his cup of mid-grade. "Maybe some other time."

Whirl shrugged, hopping off of his stool, stumbling to stand. “Suite yourself, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”


End file.
